Scared of You
by LuvEwan
Summary: Obi-Wan struggles with his apprentice during two very different, but traumatic moments. A complete one-post.


  
**Scared of You**

By LuvEwan

PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

**O**

Obi-Wan struggles with his apprentice during two very different, but traumatic moments.

**O**

_And I'm sorry_

_That I made myself feel better_

_By making you feel_

_Never good enough_

_I know you'll shine much brighter_

_Than I ever could_

_Maybe that is why I was_

_Scared of you._

_I know you were_

_Scared of me_

_Too _–Nelly Furtado

**O**

Obi-Wan leaned his head back against the chair, studying the pale, powdered scenery. For all the grandeur of the heavily programmed planet, the Coruscanti sky was always a sublime, even understated, palette of cream and blue. The morning had been dense with pre-rain gloom, the sort that sunk lethargy into the bones, but now only tinges of that grayness were visible, wreathing the final few clouds.

The windows were still fogged by mist. A maintenance droid would be along to wipe off the streaks, eventually. Until then, the droplets trembled to the transparent surface, while others descended in clean, quick lines, a fleeting memory of a brief storm.

It was a somber afternoon, yet somehow, the ambience was soothing to the Knight.

His eyes flickered down to his mug. Empty. And the warm pot sat in the kitchen.

Obi-Wan sighed. The idea of such an excursion was enough for him to sink further into the welcome cushion of the old chair, and close his eyes against everything.

Sleep. It called to him more, since things had become so—different.

Different? A bittersweet smile played across his lips. 'Different' was certainly correct, if a euphemistic description. Everything was different, from the moment he woke to a pale dawn in a bed that never belonged to him. The trend continued throughout the day, as he moved amid the utterly changed surroundings, attempting to do justice the tasks that had been laid out before him.

But his eyes always strayed, just a little, to those around him. Were they fooled? Or did they see beyond the flimsy mask, to the imposter, the Knight who achieved his station merely because he survived what had killed his Master?

Obi-Wan's fingers curled tighter around the cooling ceramic handle. The deepest, most intimate layer of that insecurity always came as a bitter lump to his throat. It disturbed—frightened—him, above all else.

_Does Anakin know?_

The boy was very young, but had the keen perception fitting the fabled bringer of Balance. With those wide, ever-attentive blue eyes, he saw more than Obi-Wan wanted him to. Did he see the doubt his new Master harbored?

_Does he know that I question us both?_

His heart clenched at the thought, and it was the push needed for him to finally rise. He walked towards the kitchen, trying to forget the memories that crammed every inch of the space, wanting it to be washed clean within his mind. His Master was gone, and so the lovely, biting recollections should have gone with him.

Gonea kind gloss, concealing the ugly reality of it. It wasn't the word he heard scraping in his head. To everyone else, Qui-Gon Jinn had passed on, become one with the Force, attained peace.

But for Obi-Wan, he was dead. The pain-strained face still came to him, as he lived the restless nights in a cold bed. He strove for serenity, but could grasp only that gutting image.

He stopped at the counter, rubbing his temples before reaching for the kettle.

Then he was dropping the kettle without thought, dashing across the apartment, as everything in him began to flood with the overwhelming shock of sudden despair…though it was not his grief rushing madly from every pore of the Force.

He sprinted the short length of the corridor, going to Anakin's room on instinct.

The Knight was nearly knocked backward by the slam of raw emotion.

Anakin was on the floor, knees pressed to his chest, tear-bruised eyes adhered to the small body crumpled beside him.

Obi-Wan felt his heard clutched up by sharp sympathy. The little, furry creature had been a stray, a jumpy thing with an auburn coat and liquid black eyes. Anakin had found him as they walked the streets near the Temple, two months before. There was no written rule within the Code concerning the subject of pets, but Obi-Wan knew it was greatly frowned upon. He had gazed into the silly face of the animal, and seen the dozen disappointed faces of the Council.

But then, there was Anakin's face, lit with beautiful excitement. There was Anakin, who didn't join in with his peers very easily, who was still treated as an outsider.

The boy had wrapped his arms around his new acquaintance, rubbing the fluffy head and shaking the paws, and Obi-Wan discovered he didn't have it in him to reject the desperate pleas.

The animal—unsurprisingly referred to as 'Racer'- was a constant companion of his Padawan. Anakin tended to him constantly, chasing him around their quarters and (attempting to) teach him tricks.

They had been inseparable, until now, with the terrible accomplishment of the ultimate divider.

Anakin was sobbing quietly, bare toes digging into the carpet, shoulders shaking.

Obi-Wan took in the tragic scene, and immediately felt out of place. This moment, of devastation and unbridled tear fall, was meant to be handled by someone with grace for such things. He stood there in the doorway, knowing that no one else would be coming to mend the fractured soul, and that he was ill-equipped for the job.

The child continued to weep into the fold of his arms. There were mechanical toy bits scattered around him, reminders of his tender age.

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan stepped inside, moving past the lethally still form, and crouched beside his apprentice.

"Anakin?"

His Padawan's head shot up and he scrubbed feverishly at his misery stained face. "M-Master." His lips quivered. Slowly, his focus traveled to the breathless body of his friend, and he choked on a cry. "Master, he's…"

Obi-Wan laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." He told him softly.

Anakin sniffed. "Now I don't have anything. I'm just…" His eyes grew brighter with the welling deluge, "I'm just all alone."

The first tear trailed down Obi-Wan's cheek, but it went unnoticed. "No, you're not," He whispered, shaking his head, "_I'm _here with you. I'll be here for you, Padawan."

Anakin studied his face, as though in deliberation, the searing hurt scrawled across his countenance.

A heavy weight sunk in Obi-Wan's stomach. Again, he wouldn't be enough. Perhaps they were both alone. But perhaps that wasn't enough for him, while looking at the grieving innocence reflected on that small face. "It's alright to cry."

Anakin blinked. "D-Did you cry when Master Qui-Gon died?"

Obi-Wan felt an inexplicable protectiveness thrum up within him. Since the horror of the generator core, he had guarded his emotion from everyone, even as he stood witness to the reduction of the proud man to a mound of smoldering ash. He had not cried, when the fire was so close and intense it stole his breath. And he had not cried, for his Master or for himself, after returning to Coruscant.

But he _had _cried, when the last of life had bled from his mentor on that ice-carved floor. He had gathered Qui-Gon close to him, and cried for a long while, until all strength had been purged from him, and he was a huddled mess, grasping to someone beyond his reach.

And he still wanted to cry, when the air stirred an old scent, or the fading sunlight bathed the Master's quarters in dusky reds and orange.

He would never cry again. It had taken painstaking efficiency to sew those gaping holes; he wouldn't waste that hard work and rip them open. There was no salve for that agony.

He looked into the waiting eyes…and decided really, there was nothing to prove to this boy. Except that he cared. "Yes." Obi-Wan admitted, dabbing a tear from the smooth cheek, "I did."

Despite the circumstances, Anakin managed a shaky smile. "Then I'm…not a bad Jedi…for crying about Racer?"

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan shook his head, "Of course not. You have compassion. You can't be a Jedi without it." He swallowed a thick uprising in his throat, "And you have so much, my Padawan. You will be a very good Jedi."

"The best?" Anakin wondered with a crooked, somewhat insecure smirk.

Obi-Wan straightened the sun-kissed braid trailing from his ear. "To me, you will be."

Anakin rushed to embrace him, locking short arms around Obi-Wan's neck.

The Master sat; dumbstruck, completely bewildered by this child who could simultaneously make him feel like nothing…and everything…

**O**

Tonight, he felt like nothing.

Obi-Wan stood in the darkened corridor while the conflict crashed in his chest. His heart told him to cut through the shadows of that room, to go to him. But his head spoke of the problems between them, that spread and multiplied like a plague.

What could _he_ do to console Anakin? His time on Tatooine had been limited to the confines of the starship, and that had been a decade ago. He had never met the devoted slave woman who sacrificed her sole happiness, in order for her son to fulfill his dreams.

He wasn't there when she succumbed to the wounds inflicted by the Tuskens. Anakin had not uttered a syllable about any of it. Padme had relayed it to Obi-Wan, briefly and with more than a hint of emotion, before she left for Naboo.

Weeks later, Anakin still would not divulge a shred of his heartache to his teacher. Obi-Wan had attempted to shut himself off from the exploration of that fact, but ultimately, he had to acknowledge that it hurt.

Why could Anakin seek a listening ear from Amidala, hells, from Palpatine, but couldn't walk the few steps to his Master's quarters?

Obi-Wan could hear the razored sobs. Each one lanced through his very soul.

Why did his Padawan choose to suffer in solitary?

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, and started to walk away.

"I-I know you're there." A rasping voice called through the black.

Obi-Wan stopped. He spared a moment to marvel that, years later, he could still be so hesitant, so unsure, when it came to his pupil. Was it an invitation to enter…or an entreaty to leave?

He lifted a foot—and set it down within the shadows of the room. Anakin was a bowed silhouette on the edge of his bed, head sunk into his hands. "You didn't shield very well." The young Jedi observed in monotone.

"You do." Obi-Wan nearly smiled.

"Yeah, but you're still here."

The apparition of the smile faded, and Obi-Wan stood beside him, a hand flattening on Anakin's curved back. "Padawan, I'm so sorry."

Through the pall, Anakin shook his head. "She…I promised I would…" He gulped down an abrupt sob, "I didn't free her. I d-didn't save her."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the glare of an electric red sweep, dredged up from the dust. "There was nothing you could have done." He said, with absolute conviction.

"That's what everyone says. But no one really knows that, do they? You don't _know_." There was the slightest vein of accusation palpable in the words. "How would you know anything about this? You don't have a mother."

Obi-Wan waited for the sting to lessen before replying, "No, I suppose I don't. I never had the chance to know her. Master Qui-Gon was the family I had."

Anakin's breath was hitching. "So you can't understand."

The Force was streaked in his harsh melancholy. Obi-Wan could feel the pain grinding in his apprentice, the sense of futility and uselessness. "I guess I can't. But you could tell me."

Anakin was on the brink of dissolving in the tears again. "It's…" His mouth trembled, "It's like being emptied out. Nothing's worth anything. I can't feel anything…but that."

Obi-Wan outstretched his fingers, to wipe away the collecting beads from beneath the desolate eyes.

A cold, motorized hand gripped those fingers, pressing them to Anakin's face. "Master, I can't lose you." He whispered quickly, raggedly. "Promise me I won't. _Please_, promise me you won't die."

Obi-Wan knew it was the frightened, orphaned son in Anakin talking. He knew there was no answer he could give, for as a man and a Jedi he was ever aware of his own mortality.

But before he could say anything, Anakin leaned against him, burying his damp face against Obi-Wan's torso, fingers pressing hard into the older man's back.

There was actual pain then, and Obi-Wan wanted, for a moment, to pull away, as he was tempted so often throughout this apprenticeship. He felt almost threatened by the tumult swirling around him. Yet, he endured it, hand cupping his Padawan's head.

"Promise you won't ever die." Anakin gasped.

Obi-Wan shushed him. It wasn't the time to reveal what he had kept secret for so long. He couldn't tell Anakin that, in the end, he still wouldn't be enough.

The loss of his own Master was a small thing compared to the death of Shmi Skywalker.

And he couldn't prevent his own death, when it came.

He could never be all the things his Padawan needed him to be.

_The End_


End file.
